Nude
by Wintry Leen
Summary: All she really wanted was for her to be his muse. InoSai. AU. #47
1. Nude

**a/n:** Hello ya'll! And so, I'm in Japan now working as an ALT under the JET Programme, and I'm back here. Kind of. Had some downtime because I just got my stable Internet access just a while back, so I was able to force myself to write when nothing else was there to distract me. This was supposed to be M-rated but the rust beneath my fingertips is just too much, I had to write it out first. So this is the watered-down version. I didn't have the energy to go beyond the confines of my T-rated imagination. Bah.

Also, shout-out to Rain ( _rainyrhapsody_ ) for giving me a detailed profile of Sai almost a year ago for this fic. This isn't exactly what I hoped to produce though, and I'm pretty sure this wasn't a solid Sai. :3

Another shout-out goes to _fanofthisfiction_ for being a constant presence in my FFN life and beyond. And if you haven't already, check out her profile and join her Fanfiction Review Movement!

* * *

 _Nude_

"Consider my offer."

Ino said with gentle force, resting her daintily manicured fingers on his arm, which was currently working miracles on a canvas.

She had a lot to offer, and she made sure he knew. And his repulsion against her was probably his response. Still, she wanted him to consider at least this offer – the purest and ironically, the most artless form of offering him her everything.

(She would want to express herself in more artistic and inventive ways, but she doubted he would ever let her.)

Sai briefly looked at her before training his eyes again on his current masterpiece.

"Why me? I'm not interested."

She anticipated that – his words, his dead-flat tone, and that stony smile. She'd only known him for five months, having been in the same Art course at one of the most esteemed art universities in Tokyo, but she felt like he'd been the muse who had been unknown to her until she saw him walk into the room the first day.

Her first output was entitled "Like a Moth to the Flame" and his, "It Burns and Burns." They both got recognition from their professor and their colleagues, but she didn't care. All she asked for was his recognition, but he didn't even ask for her name.

And so, she made the first move and chased him around like the happy moth that she had willingly blossomed into. And he would always be the flames that burn so cruelly.

She ran her finger along his arm, and he twitched in shock, dropping the fine paintbrush and giving her – she wasn't surprised – a glare in depths of black.

"But I'm interested in you," she remarked coolly, undeterred by his characteristic displays of disinterest bordering disgust towards her being.

He stood and walked meters from her. "That's not my problem anymore."

The laugh that soon followed echoed in the room, and she was yet again bestowed by one of his precious glares.

She winked at him and smirked. "I'll make it your problem."

 **…**

They had their life drawing class, and as always, Sai was commended for his reclining nude masterpiece. Even the model whom she noticed had the same shade of hair color as hers became excessively delighted by his output she had asked him if they could have a collaborative project soon. Sai replied with a polite "We'll see" and, this time, a less stony smile.

And suddenly, Ino was fuming. Right after everyone had shuffled out of the room, she launched herself onto him and pushed him until he had his back against the wall. She trapped him with her hands planted on his sides, and even though he was a bit taller than she was that she had to tip her head up to look at him, she made sure not to back down.

"I've been asking you for five fucking months to work with me and it only took that gal like 5 minutes to have you say yes. First come, first served, darling," she said with honeyed sarcasm.

"Have your ears checked. I never said yes."

He didn't even bother looking at her. He was just talking right above her head.

Somehow this ticked Ino off more, so she tiptoed so she could be at level with his gaze. She made sure he knew that she was also sinfully tracing his perfectly sculpted lips with her eyes.

"Then say yes to me now," she let out in a mere whisper, thrilled by the fact that she was almost breathing the same inch of air as him.

He sighed. The very first sigh he made in front of and in reaction to her. "What you want isn't a collaborative project."

"But I wo—"

"You want to be the model."

"Yes, I want to be drawn by you," she insisted.

"Art isn't born out of such selfish desires."

He released one more breath and gently pried her off him.

"I'm not being selfish!"

Her fists clenched at her sides, and she could feel her eyes burning. She didn't know why. But it deeply upset her to have been called selfish by the very person she was trying to earn respect from.

"That kind of project requires a different level of intimacy between the artist and the subject, and we both know you want. . ." he scoffed and had that stony smile once more, "no, you pine for an intimacy incompatible with the art I'm making, the cheapest kind of intimacy there is."

Ino stood there, paralyzed and sinking at the same time. She couldn't believe that he had just told her the most insensitive words an artist and woman could hear. Hadn't she progressed from being just a random stranger to at least being an acquaintance to him in those five fucking months that as he so cavalierly put it she had pined for him? If she were at least a mere acquaintance, he wouldn't have the heart to say those to her.

But she stood her ground and looked at him despite the burning. Oh, he sure burned her so well and cruelly.

"If you would just let me, I would draw you. As the artist, I choose you. To be the subject of my canvas, to be the object of my artistry. I pine for you just like an artist would for a subject worthy of his time and art. I pine for you because you are my muse. And if it so happened that I also have feelings beyond that, I don't think it's any different from what you're calling pure intimacy. I pine for you in more ways than one."

She looked at him hard before making the first move this time to leave.

 **…**

She probably should've thought a gazillion times more if she'd thought he'd ever miss her. Because he didn't, and it had been two weeks since their last encounter. She was waiting for him to make the first move this time, to apologize, to beg her to come back, to give him a second chance, but it was probably the unrefined artist in her that was giving her such ridiculous imaginings.

So, during their classes that his back was the only thing she was allowed to see of him, she would find a way to incorporate painting that into the figures required for a session so much so her outputs would appear grotesque and chromatically chaotic. But to her, they were still art. Anything with him in it would always be sublime art for her.

The workshop for the session ended, and she had received once more lots of questions about her recent work. _Why is there a sharp contrast in the palette that you used? Is that the back of a person fused with a deer? It looks very postmodern except that I don't know which style, is it though?_

As usual, he would receive the most palatable and sensible critiques. She didn't even bother what he had painted. It wasn't like he had been interested in any of her paintings anyway. Fair enough.

She was cleaning up her workplace when he passed by her and gave a remark that teased her to hope again.

"I don't think my back goes well with a deer. Try a crow instead."

It was all too fast, and she didn't see his face anymore, but she knew, by familiarity, that he was smiling. Maybe just less stony this time. She packed up her things quickly and made a beeline for the door.

 **…**

She wasn't able to follow him, but it wasn't like she couldn't go to his apartment. So, she did. The first time she showed up at his doorstep, he made the most expressionlessly expressive face there ever was she wanted to commit it to her canvas. But out of pure courtesy, she just let it sit on her mind. She was an artist and a harmless stalker on the side. She was glad though that every time she rang his doorbell, even without verbally inviting her in, he'd just open the door and walk away.

Probably that was hope right there. Maybe they were at least friends.

This time, she didn't even have to ring. The door was already slightly ajar, and she just made a quick knock before going in.

She found him at his usual spot, working on yet another masterpiece.

He must've heard the click of the door and paused.

"What are you doing here? I'm busy," he said, not sparing her even a glance.

She had a beat of a laugh before stalking over to him and brazenly started massaging his shoulders. He automatically released the paintbrush and to his utter dismay, it left a careless stroke on the canvas. He hissed and knocked off her hands.

"Can't you just stay away?!" he bellowed.

But she didn't feel the sincerity.

"You left the door open, honey, so I invited myself in. Besides I did stay away for two weeks. That's enough. You must be missing me already."

He only looked at her before picking up the brush.

"Go."

She didn't move.

He pasted that stony smile of his. "Please. If you may just leave, young lady."

But she walked towards the painting instead, inspecting the damage that isn't a damage, but a beautiful accident.

"I can help you remedy this."

He narrowed his eyes on her. "I don't trust you."

"You don't need to trust me. Just acknowledge the fact that I'm an artist, too."

She smiled but frowned the next moment. "Oh, is it because I'm not of your caliber?"

Sai looked away. "No, not that."

"Then, it's a deal!" she chirped.

She took the paintbrush from his hand and painted faint, dancing lines at the tip of the unwanted stroke, and added a shadow of gray along the edges of the base.

"All done!" she chirped and turned to him, the other tip of the brush poking her cheek. "I think you're going for a calm, tranquil mood for this one so I thought to emphasize that. I hope it didn't ruin your style though?"

Sai walked over to her work and looked at it closely. This made her a bit conscious because this would be the first time that he would pay close attention to her skills. She just hoped she was worth it.

"Thank you."

"Eh?" She stared at him, flabbergasted.

"I'm entering a competition," he continued before casually getting back the brush from her and started drawing more lines.

Ino scanned her head for ideas and exclaimed when she spotted one.

"Oh, is this for the Louvre Museum thing?"

He gave her a half-glare.

"It's not just a thing."

"Of course, I know! So, when is it due? What's the theme? What's your plan?"

"This is the plan. I want to turn it in next week."

She then looked over the whole painting and felt a surge of pride that she was in love with this man who could basically do the most beautiful paintings of this era that the world would have the luck to see.

"Do you want to know what I think of it?"

He considered for a moment and nodded.

"Sugarcoated or not?"

At that question, he quirked a brow.

"…Not?"

"Okay! Then I must say that it's amazing!"

He shook his head, and if it wasn't only uncharacteristic of him, she knew he probably would've also rolled his eyes at her. "You're never serious, are you?"

"Oh, but I am! About this painting and about you!"

She flashed him a big smile and waited for his response. She technically just confessed.

But it seemed like he had decided to avoid the topic.

"If I'd picked sugarcoated, what would you have said?"

"I would've told you that it's an incredibly amazing masterpiece!"

"You're nuts," he deadpanned.

"Yes! And Sai, I'm absolutely crazy for you. I know you know that."

She walked closer to him, holding his gaze, trying to fathom what he was thinking.

But Sai only turned back to his canvas.

"I have to finish this. There's only a few days left."

Somehow, his indifference didn't pain her so much anymore, so she decided to give him the space he needed for now.

"Okay. I'll be leaving then. I'll see you on Monday!"

She headed for the door immediately, not wanting to wait for a reaction that would probably never come.

 **…**

But they no longer had the chance to talk because he had been busy with the preparation and taken a 3-day leave from their classes. All their professors were in full support of him, so they willingly gave him the permission to take that much-needed leave. They all knew he would win it out.

But the week after, results came in, and when she learned that Sai didn't make it to the shortlist, she quickly hurried out of her ongoing class and came running to his apartment.

Fortunately, Sai was just about to enter his unit.

"Sai!" she called, panting, from the end of the hall.

He only looked at her impassively before entering, and before he could lock the door, she made sure she would be able to make it inside as well.

Surprisingly, there wasn't a struggle on his side, and she could go in as peacefully as possible.

Instead of sitting in front of his canvas, he proceeded to his sofa and capped off a bottle of soda, chugging it down before fixing her one of those cold and calculating stares.

"I'm not sad nor upset, if that's what you came for. I'm just tired from all the painting I did the past few days."

"I'm sorry," she started, and the dam broke. "I'm really sorry. It must've been that stroke. If I didn't surprise you that time, we wouldn't have to fix it. It might've looked like a blemish to the – "

"Don't say that. It sounds like you're underestimating my capabilities. Even if that was considered a flaw, they wouldn't have noticed it if everything else was perfect. So, you saying that it might be because of that flaw is like saying I didn't do everything else perfectly."

His words were razor sharp, but she knew that he was right.

"I'm sorry. I'm still sorry."

And she couldn't help crying helplessly in front of him.

She felt him pass by her before hearing his voice.

"Let's paint something together."

She looked at him surprised, teary eyed and all.

"You want to cheer me up, don't you?"

It took seconds to process what he said, but she was able to give a hearty yes just as quickly. She happily wiped away her tears and sat beside Sai, taking the brush he was offering her.

"You may call this a collaborative project. What do you want to paint?"

She wasn't listening to his words anymore; she was just looking at him, admiring him more, and thinking that his side profile was his best angle. She dipped her brush into a can of blue paint and did a swift stroke across his cheek.

He snapped his head to her direction, and she giggled as she did a similar stroke on his forehead. And the next thing she knew, Sai had also had the tip of his brush heavy with yellow and ready to have his revenge. She stood abruptly and raced across the room to get away as fast as possible from the assaulting brush. But Sai wasn't one to be defeated and chased her nonstop.

Over the course of their game, they had acquired numerous streaks on their faces, arms, clothes, and even hair. Seeing a dash of yellow on Sai's ebony hair was a wondrous sight for Ino, and she couldn't help pointing it out as she giggled unceasingly.

"I'd volunteer dyeing your hair with yellow streaks if you'd let me."

"The blue paint looks good on your hair, too. It matches the color of your eyes," he said, in turn, earnestly.

She managed to hold back her next fit of giggles to focus on what he had just said.

"You like my eyes."

"The color."

"Then draw me," she challenged.

He shook his head. "You don't look like a nude model to me."

Her brows furrowed in question. Was that an insult?

"What does that mean?"

Before she knew what was happening, he was leaning in, and it didn't take long before she felt his lips on hers like wisps touching her skin..

She kissed him back with more force and felt his fingertips trace patterns across her cheeks and arms. As the kiss grew heated, she couldn't help wondering how such cruel flame could burn her so wonderfully. His lips then found a spot below her ear, and just before claiming her, he heard him whisper. _Beautiful_. It was like making art; only that in that moment, they weren't artists.

In the afterglow, she wondered if it was making love as well when they weren't lovers either.

Sai was fast asleep on his side of the bed, and she was yet again met with the sight of his back. But this time the view was unhindered by fabric. This was raw and real, and she could only touch it and snuggle up to him, skin to skin. She still couldn't believe she was here, close to him, closer than before.

But still not appreciably close because the next morning she found herself alone in the bed. She didn't make an effort to look for him because she'd learned her lesson hard.

 **…**

What she didn't see coming though was his avoiding her after everything that happened. The first day after they slept together, she could understand. He was probably shy or confused or waiting for the right moment, but a week had passed, and he was back to being distant. He acted as if she vanished into thin air and he never knew her.

That hurt more than the physicality of giving him her first. But she had no regrets. It would've always been for him.

She decided to let him be for some more time. When the next week arrived, he was nowhere in sight. She was contemplating ambushing him in his apartment when their professor announced that someone from their class got a scholarship abroad at Louvre University.

She didn't bother listening who.

 **…**

She read in the news that an art exhibit was soon to be open to the public in a matter of days. Apparently, it would hold paintings by artists from all over the world, and there was a great chance that _his_ paintings would be there. She knew he'd gained worldwide recognition over the years of his scholarship at that prestigious university in Paris, and she knew he'd probably forgotten about her, too.

A year after he left for Paris, she decided to take a different direction, but not too different because it still included drawing, and she would still work on a few projects on a canvas from time to time. Most of the time, they were about him. She went for Fashion Designing at a sister school of her previous one. It delayed her for a year, but she was happy and fulfilled that she was able to get everything under control again despite his leaving. It ruined her.

But it did beautifully. She couldn't even fault him for simply leaving without telling her goodbye. She would've never wanted him to. He left her with such a beautiful memory, and it was enough. He would always be her muse, the one she'd always pine for, and never have.

She had to think twice before going to the museum, but when she saw from the list that paintings of famous painters would be featured as well, she gave it a try. The venue was a large pavilion whose inside was structured like a museum with compartmentalizing walls separating off one corner from the other. Some artists were also there, and she actually would've wanted to brush shoulders with Saville if not for the long queue of people awaiting at her table.

Her feet then led her to a small crowd gathered around a large painting. When she caught a glimpse of it, she had to excuse her way through the circle just to get a better look at it.

In the painting was a woman turned to her side of the bed so that her back was the only visible profile to the viewers. White sheets pooled around her, covering the lower half of her body while her hair blanketed the upper. It was a very simple representation, but the hair and the scene and the sheets –

"I never thought I'd ever see your hair down again."

She whipped around to see him just inches behind her, with that smile of his, probably the least stony smile he'd ever given her, and his eyes finally seeing her.

"And I never thought I'd see your cold smile ever again, you idiot."

And when she laughed, it sounded shaky and spent, but hopeful.

 _ **...**_

 _ **Tbc.**_

 _(Please send me love and reviews? It's kinda hard settling in because I only know little Japanese but my teachers and supervisor have all been so kind and wonderful, so I'm okay for now._

 _I am tempted to add another chapter because I think there are way too many loose ends. Not that a second chapter would magically remedy that because I guess I just have the tendency to skip explaining some parts. Bah. Probably the lazy writer in me._

 _So whatdya think? 😊)_


	2. Mask

**a/n:** apologies omg. i'm not finishing on time so have to split this chap into two. i've been too busy settling in and adjusting and going out with friends to cope with loneliness /  
(not homesick but i miss my mom)

* * *

 _Mask_

And when she laughed, it sounded shaky and spent.

But hopeful.

And then she stopped laughing because she realized hoping didn't really get her anywhere close to him four years ago. She thought it did but what constituted their relationship was senseless blobs of leftover paint which was _nothing_ compared to the grandeur of his art that he had dedicated his life to.

 _They_ would always be fleeting.

And _she_ would always be something he could only ever pass by. He did stop once though to give her a momentary recognition and then he casually turned his back on her permanently.

In fact, it only dawned on her that seeing this painting should mean nothing special. This painting was nothing more than a product of his artistic imagination, just an addition to his rows of finest works. It was nothing personal. He just needed to use her for his art. And how different was she from him, really, when she would try to paint (and not finish) faces of him almost every day of her life?

She might have been the muse of this particular painting but she had learned it hard enough that she could never amount to being _his_ muse.

Because if she was, he wouldn't have left like that.

She wouldn't blame him. She wasn't mad nor resentful over it, but he still left her, and she had to deal with the pain no matter how beautiful it had seemed to be.

Sai took a step towards her and on instinct, she did the same and instantly felt betrayed by herself. She knew that he was going to say something but someone from behind him called out to him.

She wanted to say it first before hearing it from him.

"I should go – "

"Wait for me," he said with conclusiveness before heading towards that which needed his attention.

She contemplated his words. She knew he wanted a talk but about what, she could never be sure. He wasn't one to apologize. He was too brutally insensitive and honest to do that. He had already probably justified his sudden leaving to himself. Actually, he didn't need to justify anything to her. Besides, if she could phrase his feelings for him, he'd definitely say, "It wasn't my obligation to say goodbye to you."

And well, that's true.

Right from the start, he had made it quite clear that her liking him wasn't any of his business.

And it would follow that her decision to let go couldn't be his business, too, so she headed for the exit right away, throwing one last look at the painting. She'd agree with him: it was probably a memory worthy to be painted for the sake of worldwide recognition. After all, wouldn't it be really interesting to showcase in public something so intimate?

But it was exactly just that. A memory. Intimately beautiful and sad and belongs to the past.

…

The exhibit was set to be open for only a week, and this was the last day. She made sure not to go back there anymore after her first visit.

He would always be her muse, but seeing him and that painting was enough of a closure for her.

She could finally stop painting him and things related to him and work on a new project or just stop painting altogether because she should be focusing instead on coming up with more stylish designs for their models at the studio.

She opened her drawer to get started but was immediately confronted with the sight of her paint brushes, their tips still laden with memories. She then scanned her room and realized that every corner of her apartment was filled with nothing else but tubes of paints, tainted palettes, canvas stands, and half-finished faces of _him_.

She let out a sigh.

"Too much for moving on, Ino."

Just then, someone rang the doorbell, and she was quick to open the door.

"Why are you here?" she asked as soon as she saw that stony smile of his.

"I told you to wait for me," he replied casually, not giving up the smile.

"And was I supposed to wait again after all those years? You're still cruel as ever," she said sarcastically, folding her arms, and leaning against the doorframe.

This successfully disturbed his peaceful smiling face, and he regarded her intensely.

"Aren't you supposed to invite me in?"

And then Ino remembered the treasures of her apartment, and she just couldn't possibly let him know! She pushed at him lightly, making space for herself, and she pulled the door close with her other hand.

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms between them.

"That's unfair. You would usually enter my apartment without permission."

She blushed at this and hated herself for it.

"Th-that was different. . ." she stammered, looking away.

"Then let's talk somewhere."

"Are you sure you have time for this? It's the last day of your exhibit right? Shouldn't you be scrambling off to your next site?" she quipped, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm staying here. They can re-install my paintings themselves."

The implication of what he said hit her hard. "Why here? Why not stay in Paris for good? Anyway, you already spent your four years there so why not stay there forever?" she reacted, her arms, a convenient tool to gesticulate the difference between here and there.

"That's weird. What's with you and your insistence to avoid me?"

"I'm not avoiding you."

He flashed that irritating smile of his again, as if he really knew better. "I can totally see that. You used to always look for me and barge into my apartment."

"I got used to not seeing you anymore, that's why."

She wasn't sure if what she said was actually true, but she needed to put up with his line of arguing, and she had no idea how to tell him that she wasn't exactly avoiding him but wasn't too keen on talking with him either. She wanted to avoid unnecessary drama as much as possible. She'd already had four years or so of that because of him.

They fell silent once more.

He was the one who broke it first. "But you seemed happy when you saw me. You even said you'd never thought you'd see my stony smile again."

He spoke slowly as if choosing his words, but she could hear hints of confidence in his accusation, so she'd probably do well to admit to that.

"I was happy. And that's it. I don't need to elaborate and we don't need to talk," she said hastily before turning to open the door.

"I'm sorry."

Her fingers gripped the door handle tightly, but she didn't budge from her position. "That was four years ago. You didn't need to apologize."

"Still, I'm sorry."

By this time, she had already managed to push the door ajar.

"Okay. You're forgiven then," she said dismissively over her shoulder.

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

It wasn't the question that startled – alarmed – her, but that sudden spark of warmth against her arm. He couldn't possibly be initiating a physical contact now, could he?

She sighed loudly and threw her head back before turning to face him which automatically made him let go.

"We really don't need to talk about anything. I thank you for painting that though. I'm glad that the clingy me back then had a bit of use for you and helped you create some fantastic art . . ."

She didn't finish her sentence because suddenly, he had this grim expression on his face.

"I did not use you. I didn't plan for _that_ to happen just so I could have some material for – "

"O-kay! That's fine. We're cool. Now I'm heading back inside because I still have things to do. Bye!"

And before he could react, she made sure she could get to close the door faster.

She wasn't ready to meet him again after all these years, but more than that, nothing could've prepared her for meeting this version of a Sai she hadn't seen before.

He talked too much now and would surprisingly even bother to go to great lengths just to explain things. Where was the brooding and gloomy artist she'd known from years ago? She needed that Sai.

She needed him not to care.

…

 _ **Tbc.**_

 _(I know it's too short but I just want to post something before another busy week starts tomorrow. I was thinking of putting up a Sai chapter but it's not my style. I feel like it'd ruin things for me hahaha. Thanks to fanofthisfiction, Ketsui Tasogare and some people on tumblr for the ideas. I was considering Oneofthemasses's suggestion of turning this into a multichap but you know I suck at updating hahaha and I don't think I was able to give it a solid framework where I could build things on._ _Thank you so much ya'll for pushing for another chap (in this case, two) and please leave some more and suggest some more ideas while you're at it? :D)_


	3. Shadow

**a/n:** meh, I just really suck at updating. Really sorry! Still hoping I can work on the next chaps of my SS fic, UWFOE.

* * *

 _Shadow_

The next day, she went to work as usual and worked on her designs.

Her agency would be having a grand photoshoot soon, and she needed to make sure they would be able to showcase the best of their wardrobe. She also had another project coming up which needed her full attention as this would be her biggest break. The illustrious fashion week was just around the corner, and a famous clothing line signed a collaboration with their agency. Despite the many talented designers in the circle, it was she who was tasked to craft the designs worthy of being paraded on the runway.

She couldn't lose her focus because this could either make or break her career. It took her awhile to realize that a career in painting would be a long shot for her, but when she'd set her sights on this track, she promised herself she'd make a name for herself.

This way, she could at least live under the illusion that she wasn't in any way inferior to him, that he didn't leave because of a belated realization that she wasn't a match for him.

It was already eleven when she reached her apartment. She worked until eight and decided to get some drinks at a local bar because it was a chilly Friday night and she sure needed a reward for a hard day's work. She wanted to call up a friend to make sure she wouldn't get too wasted, but she really wasn't in need of company. By the time she finished, she was already staggering towards the taxi bay and had to repeat her address to the driver more than thrice.

Her apartment was on the second floor – thank goodness, not on the third – so it wasn't much of a struggle climbing those stairs with shaky legs and a hazy vision. She actually might have had to crawl though to make it to her door because maintaining balance wasn't an option when she couldn't even feel her head.

But she couldn't remember what happened after the stairs and how she got inside her room because when she woke up, she was already settled nicely in her bed, with a plate of omelette and a cup of hot cocoa waiting for her on her coffee table.

She stayed cooped up in her room all day, working and more importantly, trying to figure out who had carried her inside. It couldn't be one of her neighbors because she hadn't even had the chance to see them yet! It couldn't be one of her friends too because no one texted her that they would be waiting for her at her apartment or something. That and the fact that her only friends at work, Tenten and Neji, were in some location far from her area for aesthetic a.k.a modelling purposes. She then started to feel creeped out by the possibility that a total stranger touched her the night before and even entered her room.

In her panic, she still began writing a message to the two, hoping one of them would actually admit to being the person behind this unnerving mystery – or maybe they actually wanted to surprise her? She was just about to send it when the bell rang, and she ran to the door, knowing that it was definitely one of her friends coming over to give her hell about staying out late in the night and getting drunk alone.

But it was none other than Sai and his perky smile which greeted her. In her frozen state, she didn't even realize that he had already invited himself in.

When she recovered though, she ran up to him whose eyes were already trained on that corner of her room which contained her half-finished paintings of him. _Damn_.

"Why the hell are you here?"

She then started pushing him towards the door, but he only held her arms.

"You seemed to have had a great time last night. You should have invited me."

She took her eyes off him when his smile became too bright and too pretentious to bear.

"Oh," she exclaimed slowly. "So it was you who brought me here then," she continued, her voice quieting on the realization that he had practically seen everything she wanted to hide from him.

"I had to. Unless you would've wanted to spend the cold night outside?" he turned, a mocking grin plastered on his face.

She avoided his bait and decided to let the matter rest lest he decided to spew out some more nonsense. She just proceeded back to her laptop, hoping he'd get the message and just leave as silently as possible from her apartment and from her life.

But the insisting artist just pulled out a chair beside her and seated himself.

"You're free to ask me if anything happened," he began again with that annoying smile of his.

"No thanks," she quickly replied, without looking at him. She just continued letting her fingers fly on her keyboard although she hadn't made any significant progress yet. What was progress really when four years had passed and Sai was still in her life?

"You did say something in your drunken state though," he mused as if trying to recall.

Her chair fell backward in her surprise, her hands pushed against the edge of the table as she stared at him flabbergasted, like a fish cruelly removed out of its aquarium.

"I said something?"

She was so worried she said something compromising again because while she would hate to admit it now, the part of her that was constantly screaming for him was still present somewhere, vaguely lurking in her consciousness, and it sure couldn't have chosen a better time to manifest itself.

"Yes. You kept mentioning my name . . ."

"And? What did you hear? What did I say?"

"You said you miss me . . ." he said and darted a satisfied glance at her.

Then, as if unloosed, Ino just burst out laughing before righting her chair and sitting once more, slipping on that mask of calmness.

"If I missed you, I wouldn't _just_ say it. I would've done something more dramatic li – "

"Like looping your arms around my neck and never letting me go. Thought so. Yep, you never said anything but you actually did such a thing. I had half a mind to stay beside you. I didn't mind but was afraid you'd kill me in my sleep. It was hard getting out of your embrace, but I enjoyed it."

When he finished, there were two things that made her question the reality of this conversation. First, if she actually did something as ghastly as what he was claiming she did, the normal Sai would've just probably left her on the cold floor. Second, the normal Sai wouldn't have willingly engaged her nor talked this much to her.

She felt so lost she didn't know what to say next, so she settled with what she had been meaning to tell him ever since but never got the chance to.

"I'm sorry. Sorry to have bothered you," she remarked morosely. She didn't have much energy left pursuing this conversation.

"No. Don't," he countered, and she was rather surprised with how crisp and firm his tone was. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I told you I would've stayed. You never have to ask."

It was a mistake to look at him because when she did, all the emotions she thought she'd tightly sealed inside were now seeking to be released. But still, she stood her ground.

"Sai, I'm busy so please, if you may just leave."

In response, he just let out a sigh and even rested his back more comfortably against the chair, his arms now folded against his chest as he shot her a scrutinizing look.

God, she then knew what was coming.

"Stop pretending you didn't know I saw your paintings. Because I did," he paused to fix his eyes once more on that offending corner, "and I'm still enjoying seeing them now."

"What about them then?" she asked, clearly upset that he seemed to be having lots of fun teasing her at a sore spot.

"All about me."

"And?"

"It means something that it's you who painted them, Ino."

At this, she rose from her chair again, taking offense. "What? Are you trying to insult me once more? Am I gonna hear your speech about the 'cheapest kind of intimacy' again?"

She smirked when he winced, obviously recalling that exact moment in the past that would always be fresh in her memories because if she'd actually been more rational years ago, she would've seen that the closest she could ever get to him would be nothing but that, the cheapest kind of intimacy. And it was genius of him to have already branded it so fashionably weeks before _it_ actually _magically_ happened.

And it was such a laughable irony that something so magical to her had actually been nothing but some momentary, tawdry distraction to him.

And it was careless of her to be having these thoughts now because she could already feel her throat closing and her eyes watering when she swore to never again be affected by anything that concerned him because she was supposed to be okay and she was supposed to not need his sorry.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," he uttered before she felt him pull her in, his shirt soaked with the soft scent of freshly opened oil paints.

It calmed her as she remembered the days when she was so determined to show off her skills and get his recognition, the days when she dreamt of them painting together and painting each other, that day when they both had sported crazy paint streaks on their skins and she was giggling while he was making the subtlest hint of a smile as if, as if that meant anything.

And then it hit her.

She pushed him away gently because it was only what she could manage to do and thankfully, he didn't put up any resistance and his arms fell away as soon as she pulled back.

"No. Please stop. Stop saying sorry," she pleaded, her voice hoarse from a desperate, silent attempt to rein in her protesting emotions.

"You don't have to forgive. Just accept my – "

"Don't you . . . understand?" she rasped as she fell back on her chair, barely containing the slight tremors numbing her body. "I'm okay. You left, and I was okay. Accepting your sorry means I wasn't, but I was. I'm okay. So, Sai, just stop doing this."

At this point, she had resorted to fixing her gaze on that corner, disoriented and not having the strength to face him any longer.

But it wasn't long before she heard the creaking of the door.

"You're not fine at all, Ino. And you need this."

She missed being at the receiving end of such cold-blooded honesty, but she didn't owe him any answer.

"I, I also need this. Please talk to me when you're ready."

She waited for the sound of the door shutting before releasing the breath she didn't know she was holding.

His tone was unyielding yet coaxing, almost imploring.

She understood why he needed this. His conscience was eating him up, and he needed immediate relief.

Too bad though, maybe she'd never ever be ready.

…

 ** _Tbc._**

 _(Swift's "All Too Well" was on loop while I was writing this; hence, the drama. God, and I was trying so hard to hold it in check! It won't be a full-blown multi-chap fic. Sorry. :( But thanks so much for the support! Please keep the reviews coming. Means a lot to me! I'm still deciding on the next turn of events lol.)_


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